Henry stared at the grimy wall, as he sat alone in the metal chair; the light was pulled down close to his unmasked face, as if he were being interrogated. He took a puff of his cigarette as he spoke. “People always focus more on where someone’s powers came from. Maybe it was some radioactive goop that got into the water supply, maybe it was some kind of twisted sort of genetics, or maybe I slipped on some magic crap when I tried robbing some crazy old mystic. But really it doesn’t matter, at the end of the day all that matters is what someone does with their powers.” The local bruiser gave a laugh. “And what did you do with your powers kid?” Henry glared at his captor. “I didn’t the first thing that comes to everyone’s mind.”

Purse snatchers are nearly extinct in the modern age, with all the pepper spray and what not going around it’s just not viable. But some few still try, but they run into annoying type of problem. “Just what the $%#@ are you?” The purse snatcher asked as he was stopped in his tracts by a masked man in a barely sewn together bright green costume. “Isn’t it obvious?” The masked man asked as the criminal threw a punch his way. The masked man disappeared in a blast of green smoke, appearing behind his foe with a baseball bat in his hands. “I’m a super hero.” He slammed the bat into the purse snatchers head. The criminal went down in one hit, as the masked man proudly watched on. He grabbed the purse from the robber and turned to it’s owner, only to find himself facing a wave of tabloid reporters. “Uh...hi. My name’s Decoy Elite.”

Decoy glared at the newspaper in his hands. What Makes A Hero? The article explained how certain “super heroes” were nothing more than violent vigilantes trying to brute force their way into the spotlight. Decoy was of course listed as a prime example. Mumbling curses to himself Decoy pulled his mask down. It didn’t really fit with the rest of his costume, being dark red compared to the bright green of the rest of the outfit. He’d made most of the costume himself, sewing together every old bright green clothing piece he could find, the mask was by contrast from a costume shop somewhere in the city, he’d meant to paint it green, but he kept putting it off. He slipped out his window, casting an illusion to make it seem like nothing was there. He wasn’t sure if there was anyone about, but he always tried to play it safe when it came to his identity. The radio he’d tied to his belt buzzed to life, reporting of a man attacking the police. Decoy grinned; it was time to fight his first super villain.

Decoy arrived to find all the police already taken down, they looked badly beaten and not a single one had a gun on them. In front of them all stood a screaming man wearing a large metal helmet, a cutlass in his hand. “I warned you! I warned you!” Decoy created an illusion of himself in front of the man as he snuck up behind the man, his bat at the ready. The man quickly turned around swinging his cutlass at a surprised Decoy. “No! I won’t let them take me back! The world will burn! Suffer!” The man dropped his blade and moved to take off his helmet. Decoy, dodging to the side, took his chance, slamming his bat against the man’s stomach. The man fell to the ground clutching his stomach, as his helmet rolled off. Then it hit. The world shattered apart, flames began to flood around Decoy, demons snarled and leapt at Decoy. Decoy screamed in horror, swinging his bat wildly, trying to fend off the beasts. One nicked his leg and he fell to the ground, still swinging. As he hit the ground there was the large thud of his bat hitting someone’s head, and then it was all gone. The world was normal, the flames dispersed, and now where demons had stood there lay only the man Decoy had come to stop. Decoy gave a sigh. “Did it.” He whispered as he rushed away, assuming the police could take care of his knocked out foe. He was wrong, he was very wrong and leaving that man there alone would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Henry sat in the chair, looking down against the floor. A tall man with a black mask walked into the room, he was lean; his body devoid of most muscles, as if he had never had to lift a finger in his life. He held a black gun, which matched his pitch black suit. He looked down at Henry. “Tell me what happened.”

The radio buzzed to life once more, leading Decoy to an old decrepit daycare. He didn’t know why the man in the helmet had brought all the children there, or maybe he did and he just couldn’t admit to himself that a man could be that much of a monster. Decoy tried to pretend that it was all a hallucination, all the blood, all the cries, all the horrible things that had happened. He had seen pure madness. The man he’d faced before sat alone in the middle of all the carnage, his helmet on the ground, a mad grin on his face. Decoy walked up to him, ignoring the voices that began flooding his head.

“And what did you do?”

There was a loud wet thud as Decoy slammed his bat against the man’s head. And then another thud. And another. Thud, thud, thud, crack! And suddenly the voices were gone and Decoy was standing in a pool of blood.

“I did what I had to.” Henry said, glaring at the masked man. The man gave a nod, and handed Henry his gun. “Then Welcome. Welcome to the Guild of Killers.”